


A Misunderstanding

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Noah calls Barba to warn him about something he overheard.
Relationships: Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 178





	A Misunderstanding

“Noah?” Barba asked with a mixture of surprise and confusion when the boy’s forehead appeared on Barba’s tablet. “Move the iPad away from your face a little.”

Suddenly Noah’s whole expression was visible, and Barba was relieved to see the kid smiling. For a moment, he’d been worried there was an emergency because of the unexpected FaceTime call. “It worked, Uncle Rafa!” Noah exclaimed, beaming as he stared down at the screen.

Barba couldn’t help but chuckle, amused by Noah’s enthusiasm, but he was still concerned. “Does your mom know you called me?” he asked, and the ripple of guilt across Noah’s expression was all the answer necessary. 

“No, but I gotta tell you something.”

“Okay, we’ll talk, buddy, but where are you?”

“In my room,” Noah said, glancing to the side—apparently checking the door. “When are you coming back?”

“Well actually—”

“You need to come back _now,_ ” Noah interrupted, his face jumping around Barba’s screen as he fidgeted. “Mom’s still mad you left, you gotta tell her you’re sorry.”

“Noah, your mother and I—”

“She and Aunt Amanda said bad words about you.”

Barba stared at Noah’s young face, full of worry and earnestness. “I think you should talk to your mom about this, Noah. She and I are fine, she’s not angry—”

“She is!” Noah insisted, his voice rising a little. “You don’t say those words unless you’re real mad! You need to come here and say sorry!”

“Calm down, buddy,” Barba said. “You may have misunderstood.” _Don’t you dare ask him about their private conversation—_ “Maybe if you tell me what they said…” Barba cursed himself even as the words were leaving his mouth.

Noah leaned closer to the iPad until his face filled the rectangle of Barba’s screen. “Aunt Amanda said Mom wants to fuck you and Mom said—”

“Noah Porter Benson, _what_ did I just hear you say?”

Noah disappeared, replaced by the white ceiling of his room as he dropped the iPad to the carpet with a muffled thud. “I was only telling Uncle Rafa he needs to say sorry—”

“You called Barba?” A moment later, Benson appeared on the screen, her hair hanging around her face as she looked down at the iPad on the floor. 

Barba waved a hand at his camera. “Hi,” he said, not sure whether to laugh or end the call before she got close enough to the screen to see the blooms of color staining his cheeks. 

“Mom, I—”

“Go brush your teeth, it’s bedtime.”

“But I wanna say goodnight—”

Benson bent over the iPad, snatching it off the floor, and for a moment Barba saw nothing but her burgundy shirt, and then the ceiling again, and a dizzying scan of the room, and then Noah’s sad face filled the screen. “Say goodnight and sorry for bothering him without permission.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Raf,” Noah mumbled, curls falling on his forehead as he ducked his head. “Sorry.”

“Goodnight, Noah. I’ll, uh…I’ll talk to you soon.”

Benson’s face appeared, and she looked directly into the camera, startling Barba into shifting nervously on his bed. “I’ll call you back,” she said, hanging up before he could answer.

Barba stared at his tablet, blinking in stunned silence, before glancing around his room. He set the tablet aside and got off his bed, heading toward the kitchen to get a drink. He figured she wouldn’t call until after she’d talked to Noah, and even then she might opt for a text. Barba thought that might be less awkward; he was trying not to think about Noah’s words, but they were ricocheting around his skull, tormenting him.

He resettled himself onto his bed and picked up his book, sipping scotch as he tried to focus on the page. He was surprised by the FaceTime call and almost spilled his drink on his tablet as he dropped the book and hurried to answer. 

“Hey,” he said as Benson appeared on the screen. He bent his knees up and leaned the iPad against his thighs, reaching over to set his scotch on the nightstand. 

“Drove you to drink, huh?” she asked, and he laughed as he cut a look back at his camera. “I’m sorry if he interrupted anything.”

“Oh, it’s good to talk to him,” he said, settling back against the headboard and adjusting the tablet so he was centered in her view. “For the most part,” he added with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “What _exactly_ did he say to you?”

“Well, now, I don’t know if I should repeat it. Are you going to tell _my_ mother?”

“I’m sure she’s heard worse.”

“Not from me,” he said, feigning offense. 

“Right, you’re a choirboy.”

Barba laughed. “There are other reasons I’d rather not repeat what he said,” he told her, cocking an eyebrow at his camera, and he was pretty sure he saw some color in _her_ cheeks when he looked back at the screen. 

“Rollins needs to be more careful what she says.”

“Hmm. Poor Noah thought you were angry with me.”

“I am,” she said, and he grinned. “I’m _angry_ you shaved the beard. I was getting used to it.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “So was I, that’s what scared me,” he answered, and it was her turn to laugh. “Is Noah in bed?”

“He is.” She held up a glass of wine so he could see it. “And I might be finishing this bottle tonight.”

“Ah.” He retrieved his scotch from the bedside table and tipped it toward his tablet. “Cheers.” He paused. “Did you explain the different meanings of the word—”

“Don’t you dare or I _will_ tell your mother,” she warned, and he tipped his head back to laugh. “And no. I told him he’d misunderstood and that I wasn’t upset with you, anything else will have to wait until tomorrow. Or, preferably when he’s twenty.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Barba said, smiling when she arched a brow. “He’s one of the few people who actually like me, it’s good to know he’s in my corner.” 

Her expression softened, and her lips curved into a smile. “He’s not the only one.”

He let out a quiet breath. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured, smiling crookedly. “Can I call and talk to him tomorrow night? Make sure he knows you’re the bad guy, not me?”

“Sure, how about we call you, after dinner.”

“Sounds good.” He paused, shifting a bit as he regarded her image on his screen. “You know, he never did get around to telling me what your answer was.”

“My answer?” she asked, narrowing her eyes directly into her camera. 

“To Rollins.”

“You know, it’s hard to remember…”

“It’s alright, I can ask Noah tomorrow night.”

“Smartass.” She sighed, her gaze dropping to her own screen as she searched his face. “I think I said something along the lines of it not being possible until you came back to New York.”

“Huh.” Holding his scotch in one hand and the edge of his iPad with the other, he turned the tablet to scan part of his bedroom. When he’d once more focused the camera on his face, he chuckled at the surprise in her expression.

“You’re home?” she asked. “When?”

“Last night, actually. I wanted to stop over or call you, but…I’m required to self-quarantine for two weeks.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you ass.”

“Yeah, well. If the world’s going to end, I want to at least be in the same city as you.”

She blinked. “Trying to sweet-talk your way out of trouble,” she accused, but he could hear the tremor of emotion in her voice.

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Good. Thirteen days, Liv.”

“Thirteen days,” she repeated. She took a drink of wine. “I can handle that. We can manage that.”

“Sure we can. I don’t think my tailor sells Hazmat suits, so. Better to be safe.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, I’ll let you go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Rafael.”

They regarded each other on their respective screens for several seconds, lamenting the lack of eye contact. Of any contact. “Have a good night, Liv,” he finally said quietly.

“Thirteen days,” she repeated, looking pointedly into the camera before ending the call.

Barba turned off his tablet and set it aside, leaning his head back against the headboard to smile at the ceiling. 


End file.
